


Romance is like gum

by nigoi



Category: Gravity Falls, Super Mario & Related Fandoms, Super Mario Bros. (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Rare Pairings, Walk Into A Bar, the ultimate mario hate, this is it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nigoi/pseuds/nigoi
Summary: Luigi and Mabel walk into a bar.
Relationships: Luigi (Nintendo)/Mabel Pines
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Romance is like gum

**Author's Note:**

> i think i have a tendency to write the crackiest ships of gravity falls

Luigi’s in a bar with his brother when the most beautiful woman walks through the door.

He doesn’t usually go to bars, you see, but it was Mario’s birthday, and his older twin had insisted on going for a few glasses, and, well, Luigi has never been able to resist that moustage when it twists into a fake pout. Mario usually doesn’t like to go to bars either, but his love of making Luigi uncomfortable triumphs his own discomfort, and so here they are.

The bar is loud, crowded and dark --- everything Luigi hates about them rolled up in one. They weren’t even in the Mushroom Kingdom, but in some lost town of the United States, because Mario felt the need to add a language barrier to the mix. Luigi is an expert on fumbling through English as he fumbles through everything, but he’s not exactly a fan of it. 

Ten minutes after ordering a glass of non-alcoholic beverage, life finds Luigi bored, gloved finger tracing the rim of his half-empty glass for lack of better things to do. Mario is laughing obnoxiously with one waiter and one waitress about a bad joke he told seconds earlier. Luigi tries to laugh too, but honestly, he’s having trouble finding the humour in the gag.

But then, the noisy doors of the bar open, and Luigi looks up, half curious, half instinctively. He’s not trying to find anyone in particular --- they’re not waiting for anyone, after all --- but it’s not as if he has anything better to do, either, than glancing at people who are having fun in here.

He’s struck speechless by the woman who struts through, grinning and laughing and beautiful.

Straight teeth, the two front ones larger than the rest. Flushed, freckled cheeks. Wavy brown hair flowing like a cascade. Bright, happy chocolate eyes. And, perhaps most importantly, an eye-catching shooting star sweater, clearly homemade. 

She’s lovely.

His heart skips a beat.

In the most fortuitous sleight of chance, her gaze flutters to his table. More fortuitously, she starts approaching.

 _Their table_ , Luigi remembers with a jolting pang. _Mario is here too. She surely comes to flirt with him --- there’s no way a woman this pretty will choose me over him_. 

As if reading his thoughts, Mario looks forward, dragging his eyes out of the laughing workers and into her. His face lights up in excitement, and Luigi lowers his eyes to his half-empty cup again. He doesn’t want to see this.

Even through the noise, the woman’s steps are frighteningly clear. At least, until they stop in front of their table. The scent of oranges and… pig? flutters to his nose. Luigi hears Mario clearing his throat and saying, “Hello, beautiful. How can I help you on this lovely night? Lovely now that you’re here, of course.”

A few seconds pass, and there’s no answer. Confused, Luigi looks up, and into those warm chocolate eyes, too close for comfort. They crink when they see his, for some reason, but Luigi can’t think about that because their noses are almost _touching_!

“Hi, cutie!” she says, and oh, even her voice is sweet. “You look bored. Wanna come with me?”

A blink. Then two. After the third one, where the woman’s grinning figure hasn’t disappeared from his personal space, he points at himself and asks, “Me?”

“Who else, dummy?”

Luigi blinks, and points at himself with his other arm, too. “Me?” he repeats, because apparently the woman hasn’t understood him, or maybe he hasn’t heard her correctly. “You’re speaking to me?”

One of her hands slams on the table, and the other points at him without shame. With a voice that rises through the mindless, drunk chatter of the bar, she enunciates slowly, “Yeah! Can’t you hear me, man? I’m speaking to you!”

“O-oh…” Luigi lowers his hands to his lap, stares dumbly at her. Then, the words register, and he blushes like mad. Like always, from the tips of his ears to the bottom of his feet --- everything is burning, and thank God it’s winter and he isn’t wearing sandals yet. Thank _God_. 

“Aw, you’re so cute!” says the woman. “Hi, Cute, I’m Mabel! You look bored! Come with me and we’ll have some fun!”

 _I’m not that cute_ , Luigi wants to say, but the stone lodged around his throat makes it hard to talk. His face feels like lava. What good did he do in his past life to have a twenty-something-year-old goddess talking to him now? This can’t be happening. Luigi has to be dreaming.

The woman doesn’t seem to mind waiting for her answer, a patience surprising for someone that moves and acts like a tornado, so, desperate, he reverts to his old habits, and starts breathing. Of course, he’s always breathing, but breathing to the rhythm of his mother’s lullaby has always helped him calm down. 

Thirty seconds later, Luigi is composed enough to look up and ask, “What?”

The woman pouts. “I’ve already told you! You’re cute and bored and I’m flirting with you!”

That confirms it: Luigi _is_ dreaming. Great, something perfect happens to him and of course it’s a dream. Because why wouldn’t it be? There’s no way a girl this pretty and charismatic would choose him over his equally pretty and charismatic brother. 

To hammer the fact to himself --- everything is still telling him it’s not a dream, from the sharp details of the bar to its loud music, but it can’t be, because again: this can’t be happening --- Luigi’s eyes flicker between his brother and himself. Mario wears his suit all perfectly buttoned up and unrumpled, while Luigi missed a button in the middle, his suit full of wrinkles from slouching. Mario’s moustache is perfectly trimmed, but Luigi hasn’t fixed his in a week. Mario’s cap is straight, Luigi’s is not. Mario’s black shoes combine with his suit, Luigi’s rainbow ones do not.

Mario seems to think the same as he does, because he’s getting up from his seat while hastingly saying, “Excuse me, pretty miss, but are you talking to who you think you’re talking to?” He points between himself and Luigi.

The woman scowls.”Uh, yeah,” she says, slowly, as if she thinks Mario’s dumb. But that can be, because nobody --- except Luigi, secretly --- thinks that. “Don’t you guys speak English? Is that what's happening?” She switches languages, looking pointedly at Luigi. “ _Quiero divertirme contigo_.”

Luigi blinks. What language is that? The cadence is beautiful in her voice, but then again, he has a feeling that everything would be. 

“So not Spanish…” The woman crosses her arms pensively. She begins with another accent, “ _Je veux_ \---”

“ _Non, non!_ ” Luigi flails his arms. “I mean, no, no! I speak,” barely, “English! And Mario does, too!” The woman looks at him with an unreadable expression, and immediately, he feels self-conscious. Has she understood him? Was his accent that bad? 

Who’s he kidding, his accent was probably the worst garbage to come out of somebody’s mouth.

He’s about to repeat himself, hopefully with a bit better accent, when the woman’s eyebrows knit. “Look, if you don’t want to come with me---”

“I do!” he interrupts (interrupts!), even though he’s not sure. Yes, she’s a beautiful goddess, but this is also Mario’s birthday. Mario, his brother, who decided to spend his day annoying Luigi instead of spending it enjoying it himself, who stepped on his shoe when he won _once_ , who’s trying to get the attention of the only girl that’s paid attention to him since he and Daisy broke up…

Yeah, he’s totally sure. 

And so, Luigi gets up from his chair, iti making an ugly sound against the floor. The woman doesn’t seem to care about it, because she just extends her hand with a surprised grin. 

“I’m Mabel,” she says, and oh, what a beautiful name. Mabel.

The smile he gives her is the sweetest he’s made in a long time. “Luigi. Pleased to meet you.”

He takes her hand, and they go into the dance floor, leaving Mario spluttering behind them.


End file.
